Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1887-04-27

He checks himself, and after briet
pause filings the flower upon the ground.
He had been about to place it in the
water with view to it's preservation
when that revulsion Of feeling came over
him. To save it from instant destruction
why? That he might sec it upon the
morrow? The morrow? Where will he
be then?
He sets his heel upon the flower and
crushes it out of all loveliness. Death is
rushing ward him on swift black wings
shall that senseless flower be spared?
1t is very poor, o very paltry bit OF
malice, yet it erves him, and brings him
lgain face to face with his indomitable
resolve.
Crossing the room, he opens n case
lying upon bureau and draws from it a
revolver He runs his hand lightly over
it, and the cool touch of the steel seems
to steady him. Having assured himself
that it is loaded, he lays it down again
and turns to writing table.
His hand is firm, the writing bold rs
ever. A few words, explaining where the
famous sapphires (now dismantled and
unset) may be found in his rooms in town,
are addressed to his mother. Bold words,
with no endearing commencement, no af-
fectionate termination. To him the sap
phires are Of no further use. tits Us well
that Millicent should have them again.
He filings the pen aside, and, rising to
his feet, PAGES hurriedly up and down the
room. He can walk now. But like a
flash it bursts upon him that soon move
ment will be impossible. There upon the
carpet he lies like q stick-a stone. The
great grand fever Of living is tearing
through his veins. His pulses throb, his
heart beats-there are years of life within
the tall, slender, firmly built frame that
looks its last through the open window.
The early morning air, fresh and fragrant,
rushes gayly in. Heavens! how fair the
world is! Was it ever SO fair as to-day?
He takes up the revolver again and lifts
it to his mouth. There Is short hesita-
ton. His mind travels backward His
brain reels. There! there! she is be-
fore him again! A slight form, clothed
all in palest blue. A face divine! Her
lovely arms! Her eyes-dark-liquid.
See, now, they CLEAN for-Duran! Curse
him! To him she holds out her hands.
To him she gives herself. She turns
A groan of agonized remembrance
bursts from his lips. Then follows a
sharp report! II rings through the house!
He sways, and a corpse, disfgured in a
horrible manner, falls heavily to the
ground. All is over.
Through the window the light breeze
enters merrily, and floating downward,
lifts the hair, that is still unwet, from the
dead mans head, and softly, delicately,
plays with it. There is only the breeze.
All other motion is gone. So intense Is
the silence that reigns within the cham
Der, that tiny bird, emboldened by it,
perches on the sill of the window, and
breaks forth into morning carol, loud
and shrill. A carol! A requiem ratherl
And now the silence is broken. Through
the passages beyond comes the sound OF
hurrying feet There is one that runs be-
fore the others. Nearer, nearer they come,
and still the bird carols, the wind plays
the dead man lies there, careless-un-
knowing.
A touch upon the handle of the door.
The wind still revels in lifeless tresses,
but the bird has flown away. The door
opens
Upon the threshold stands-his mother.
THE END.